


I am just as torn

by ella1673



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (not quite trigger warning) bad writing, Demon!Stiles, I'm not quite sure what happened to this..., M/M, OMG WHAT IS THIS?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ella1673/pseuds/ella1673
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re not quite sure how you end up wandering the Maternity Ward.<br/>It’s not really your thing; too much screaming and cooing.<br/>No, ICU’s your usual hunting ground. At least there its quiet, dignified and it’s a miracle when you slip on the meat suit and move. Here, life is expected and death a tragedy.<br/>But  you’re perfectly certain and understand completely why you’re currently watching a woman screaming a mini meat suit out of her.<br/>Because this particular mini meat suit, going by the wonderfully terrible name of Gazanfer Stilinski, is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am just as torn

**Author's Note:**

> Since apparently this is unclear, 'you' is a demon...

You’re not quite sure how you end up wandering the Maternity Ward.

  
It’s not really your thing; too much screaming and cooing.

No, ICU’s your usual hunting ground. At least there its quiet, dignified and it’s a miracle when you slip on the meat suit and move. Here, life is expected and death a tragedy.

But you’re perfectly certain and understand completely why you’re currently watching a woman screaming a mini meat suit out of her.

Because this particular mini meat suit, going by the wonderfully terrible name of Gazanfer Stilinski, is dead.

And as you see the doctor look nervously at the red, still baby, you remember the last exhilarating time you’d been a ‘miracle’. You take a deep breath, feel the stinging slap of the doctor’s hand and scream

~x~

You’re normally quiet and laid back and you usually choose ‘miracles’ that reflect that. But Gazanfer (and it really makes you wonder about people and names these days) is not that. Even in the slightest.

He’s a little buzz in your head that won’t go away.

It makes you wonder why he died: you’d have though he’d have fought his way to the living. He makes you move, crawl along the table and try to swing from the edge to the kitchen counter, bounce from sofa to chair to floor and (once the tears have dried) back again.

One day you mistakenly force him to actually sit still for once.

On TV Pokemon is on and for the next three and a half weeks all that cycles through his slice of your head is that damn theme tune.

You wonder what he’d be like without you calming him down. And that causes a revelation: he didn’t fight his way to the living because as a still born ghost he would have eternity to do what you’ve forced him to do in one lifetime.

He’s a forceful boy and when you try to squash him down he merely seeps round to another place, where he mutters grumpily for five minutes, till he gets distracted by the robin’s nest on his window ledge. You let him look properly and you both watch the pleasant, normal, birdy life till your mother takes you to the table for dinner.

It’s only later that you realise he’s made you as fascinated as him. It makes you wonder who’s controlling who?

It’s only about a month later when you really begin to seriously think what you’ve let yourself in for:

You’re relearning how to walk and your mother is on her knees, holding your pudgy arms in her hands. Your feet are faltering, which feels so odd it makes you stumble. And she smiles and kisses your hair and says “You can do it Gazanfer”

And while it doesn’t make you reconsider your resolute descision to call yourself ‘Stiles’ as soon as your tongue can properly form the word, it does make you stand up and take your first little baby steps, alone and completely unaided, for her. And while even that surprises you, nothing prepares you for the feeling that courses through your little body when you hear two small gasps and she’s cuddling you and the strong arms of your father are encircling you both

~x~

You don’t quite realise when, but somehow what is his is now yours.

~x~

You’re 6 when you first notice Lydia Martin. And yes, she’s pretty and very intelligent, but till 7, she’s ordinary. Until one day, in a winter so beautiful you want to crystallize it and remain in it forever.

She’s standing by a frozen over pond and her parents are too busy cattishly arguing to notice their little girl stepping fairy-like onto the ice. But while her parents don’t notice the thin ice ruining that fantasy, you don’t. Your little legs are in motion even before the second crack edges down the icy covering. She sinks with a shriek that makes the boy in you push harder, force you faster than possible and you grab one of her flailing arms and pull her up. But even as she turns to thank you, you see the fear in her eyes increasing at your face and you realise your eyes have betrayed you and him. And so, despite his howls, you curse her: you make her forget, make her not tell, make her not notice you.

You are taken home and treated like a hero. But even to you it feels empty

~x~

When your mother gets ill, you would prefer the eternal torment you bargained against to the pain the boy feels, his frigid anger against you when he realises you can do nothing to help. You shut down your senses to normal: can’t bear the smell of the chemicals that don’t do anything to help, can’t bear the way her heart rate beats erratically and never as it should. She wilts fast, but even as you sit by her hospital bed she smiles and wants to know how you are and tells off your father for eating unhealthily. You defy the devil himself to not fall in love with her. Which is why you always keep a hand on her arm, or leave your mark lingering in the air, or one horrifying moment, physically prevent anything that tries to climb in and breathe with her. You tell yourself you only do it because another demon would ruin your fun, cause problems when you need to lie low for a little.

But really it's because it wouldn’t be fair. On her, your father, or you.

~x~

When Scott is bitten, it first makes you want to laugh. Of course the little asthma boy who was destined for community college and a job behind the checkouts would become important in the grand scale of things.

Later, when this tiny patch of unimportant land that treated you so well is threatened it makes you want to scream. Because here you are, more powerful than an alpha forced to disguise yourself. So you let the boy inside shine through with his intelligence and curiosity and, for once, thank him for his ADHD that lets him notice and process everything. And so you help. Because what else can you do?

You, personally, don’t really ever try to slip out. Except once when your little body is paralysed and you have to know about your dad, have to keep him safe. You can’t leave behind the meat and this frightens you so much you force feeling into your hands and drag yourself across the floor, just to have the world broken underneath you. You want to move so badly, never before had the urge to destroy so strong, but you’re helpless and your useless. The boy wants to hurt himself, begs for your forgiveness for being so pointless and all you can do is promise yourself it won’t ever get this bad again.

It doesn’t because you don’t let it. No matter how hard you’re beaten, bruised or broken one of you forces you up. And little by little you become this tiny town’s protecter; it will not fall under you. You pull out old tricks and call in old favours you’ve never even mentioned before. You rank up debts that will keep you busy over the next few centuries and even, when the world seems ready to break: the pack is dissipating, Derek is forced to kill by the Alpha Pack and your father is nest on the list, you beg an assistance that you know will torture your soul for eternity. And somehow you keep hold of Beacon Hills by the very skin of your teeth.

~x~

Slowly, and almost without you realising, ‘The Pack’ becomes your pack, and you need it as much as any werewolf. Lydia still bears your curse and can’t see you as anything more than a friend, but after a while your boy stops caring so much and you can’t help but approve of his choice this time. You help him by accident: your ears start listening to his heart (you know every beat like it’s the last you’ll ever hear) and you can’t help but smile when you get to your bedroom and you can smell him behind it, ready to berate you and then look at you with those eyes that makes your boy whisper “go on - kiss him”.

But you won’t listen to your boy and you keep such a close attention to your heartbeat and smell. Every time you remind yourself this is Stiles Stilinksi; the very breakable son of the Sheriff. There is no way he could survive the hurricane that is an emotionally broken aplpha in love. It doesn’t stop you trying to make him laugh, to finally bring such excited animation to his eyes that even you can’t stop the stutter your heart makes. Its very small and Derek can’t have been concentrating because he just keeps smiling.

When you find out the truth about Kate, you want to slide back down to hell and ask the Devil for a harsher punishment for her. But you know nothing will ever bring about the same pain she did.

~x~

You know some of the stuff you're doing is not inside the regulations of your banishment, but every time you wake up and Derek's laughing and Allison and Scott are yet again revealing true love and the wolf pack's training is punctuated with laughs, not deathly serious, it seems that its alright. You know its not going to last, but right now you and he are damn well going to live like it is.  
So when Jackson confirms it really is demons causing havoc, your blood runs icy. You laugh it off as human fear, but its so hard to keep your heart from beating with unrestrained panic when you're stuck in your house to keep you safe while Derek sees what they want over the other side of town.

But nothing in the whole universe could have stopped you from panicking when a blood stained and ashen Derek hauls himself in at your window and tells you they're looking for you. Your boy silently panics and suddenly instead of a comforting presence there's silence and it crushes you and suddenly the worlds too bright and loud. You end up awkwardly in his arms and it's too easy to let yourself seek comfort and tilt your head back and press your lips to his. There's a moment after your incredibly chaste kiss where you draw back and look at each other and you have to look at his eyes because everything else is too clear and sharp and bright. And then Derek whines and kisses back furiously, licking into your mouth and kissing down your neck whispering "I won't let them take you" over and over again and you almost, it's so close, believe it.  
But you don’t really, because no matter what he can do, despite being an alpha, despite being the alpha that beat the Alpha Pack, he can do nothing against the legions of Hell.

~x~

They do capture you. But the whole pack is behind you and suddenly the demons have a fight on their hands, when they just need to get home. And so while you’re celebrating (and mentally calculating how much pain you’re going to be in if you try to walk on that broken leg) when one of the demon yells “Stop!” and mutters something and the little balloon of holy water above you breaks and in your scream your eyes betray you. Your face is turned to the ground, but you can feel them freeze. You look up at Derek’s face and the burn of the water does nothing against the pain of the absolute look of betrayal on his face, the way his eyes close off. And the demons just hiss and say “Don’t you want your Stiles back? Let us just take him back, yes?” and you see Scott nod. Its not you, but your boy that forces the howl between your lips and makes you plead “But its me, its always been me from birth. I was still born”. There’s the minutest waver, but its Derek that looks up and says “Give us back Stiles”.

You have never seen a greater look of triumph on a demon’s face. They work their chants and rip you from this world back to where you belong. As you go, you see your body crumple and shrink, crumbling until all that is left is the baby skeleton you should have been and the howls as your pack realises you were telling the truth.

~x~

People always say when they’re in love, their partner “completes them”.

Completion’s got nothing to do with love.

After 1 million, 487,679 years of being, its only after 20 of coexisting with Stiles do you become you

~x~

Nothing can break you. Except till one day, after about 500,00 years of slowly roasting they stop you and make you watch the moment when Derek tells your father what happened to you.

~x~

Eternity is over and the Apocalypse has arrived: the moment when all the hordes of Hell and Heaven do battle. As the Devil whips all you tortured souls out of the flames a little flash of white from the other side comes over

“Hello, old friend”

And you’re whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm, so okay I hope that wasn't too bad...
> 
> Well this is the first fic I'm actually sort of proud of (so be nice)
> 
> It would be really great if you commented!
> 
> (Title from 'Where I Stood' by Missy Higgins, which really has nothing to do with this story it just happened to be playing and I liked the lyric, soooo....)


End file.
